


Tesseract

by DameRuth



Series: Concerning Smith and Jones [6]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Introspection, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth
Summary: Martha considers the Doctor, postFamily of Blood; canon-compliant.[Continuing the Teaspoon imports, originally posted 2007.06.14. Writing this one was . . . interesting, but I'm glad I stuck with it, because I like the result.]
Series: Concerning Smith and Jones [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805668
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Tesseract

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of an odd little thing, which came out in present tense for some reason. Might have to do with all the paint fumes I've been inhaling this evening as part of some household renovation work . . . :/
> 
> For those with an interest in tesseracts (including some model images and animations), see [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tesseract).

Martha watches the Doctor dancing, and shudders.  
  
Within the last day, she's seen him apply judgments that would make an Old Testament God proud -- not to mention watching him be human, then not-human again; loving and losing that love; being alternately a stranger and a friend to her. They've just come from a ceremony where a boy she hugged a few hours ago was an old, old man with a lifetime behind him -- a dizzying fast-forward, with real life as the tape.  
  
Her head is spinning, and she feels uplifted, horrified, relieved and a little queasy all at the same time.  
  
_He_ tells the TARDIS to put on some lively music, and starts dancing around the control console of his time machine -- casually flicking switches and tweaking dials along the way -- as if they've spent a day at the park and are thinking about heading to the pub for a couple of drinks. It’s just what life’s like, for him.  
  
He said the human John Smith was still a part of him, still inside — but if that was so, the poor, ordinary schoolteacher was lost like a raindrop in the ocean. There was no way the Doctor could genuinely remember what it felt like to be human. If he did, he’d never have asked Joan if she wanted to travel with him, to spend time with the being who’d killed her lover and still wore his face . . .  
  
Martha hugs herself, and watches the Doctor give moonwalking a mostly-successful shot, long limbs moving with a light, controlled grace that John Smith would never have had in him.  
  
It had been bad enough for Martha, watching the transformation from the other side, seeing the familiar Time Lord become human, compressed down into something flat and ordinary . . . not a bad man, but prone to all the usual human weaknesses and failings, the little social blindnesses and unthinking cruelties.  
  
But what must it have been like for Joan, Martha wondered, to watch the man she loved consumed when the Doctor’s true nature returned, exploding out into its full, multifaceted, inhuman complexity? To watch warm, loving brown eyes go dark and ancient? Still warm, but distant as the stars; still loving, but with an alien, abstracted affection rather than the familiar, intimate intensity of human emotion . . .  
  
Martha had thought she was jealous of Joan, but not any more, never any more.  
  
The Doctor spins to a halt, arms theatrically wide, and looks at her with a wide grin, awaiting a reaction.  
  
Martha makes herself smile and applaud, and his grin widens even further, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. It's a genuine expression, and charming. . . but not human. Before, he’d fooled her, appeared close enough to a member of her species that she’d automatically considered him one, two hearts or not. But now she knew better.  
  
Once, in one of her physics classes, the professor had brought out an intricate acrylic model, like a cube with extra cells and compartments stuck onto it. The model represented a tesseract, a four-dimensional cube. It was a shadow, the professor had explained; just as a three dimensional shape casts a two-dimensional shadow, a four-dimensional object will cast a three-dimensional shadow — and while the model looked complex, like a real thing in and of itself, it was merely a poor representation of a shape that the human mind could not comprehend.  
  
Martha had found the concept entertaining, as an intellectual excercise, at the time . . . but now she’s seen a much more immediate demonstration. John Smith had been the three-dimensional shadow cast by the Doctor — he’d looked real, but he hadn’t been . . .  
  
“So, where to, next?” the Doctor asks, breaking her from her thoughts. He’s smiling slightly, watching her alertly, expectantly — even his slightest expression, the tiniest movement is filled with extra layers and hidden dimensions, things Martha can’t explain or understand.  
  
He’s still her friend, but now she see how many facets he has, all at the same time; none of them contradictory, all of them real. He can shift from darkness to light in an instant, can exist in a fractured reality without a second thought, can be cruel and compassionate with a depth no human could ever comprehend . . . but in turn _he_ can never truly comprehend a human. Not any more. He might think so, but he’s deluding himself, as surely as Martha deluded herself when she first met him.  
  
That dark, complex regard is still resting on her, with affection and attention, so Martha racks her brains for a response.  
  
“I dunno,” she says, honestly. “I can’t think . . .”  
  
“Oh, come on now — you can always _think_ ,“ the Doctor tells her, warmly. “You’ve proven that more times than I can count. Is there anywhere you’d like to go, anyplace you’ve been that you’d like to see again . . .?”  
  
She realizes he’s being kind — he knows she’s disconcerted, he’s offering her a chance to find some sort of stability, to revisit something familiar. He’s _trying_.  
  
A memory . . . “My family went to Greece once on vacation, when I was little. I remember it was beautiful — the bright sunlight and the sea, all so vivid. I was mad for the Greek myths, wanted to see all the temples, all the places the stories had happened . . . but Mum and Dad kept to a few tourist sites, and the hotel and the beach.” She can’t help sighing at the memory, happy and frustrating at the same time.  
  
“Greece!” The Doctor sparkles with enthusiasm, and begins flipping switches and turning dials. “Oh, Greece I can do — and I know all the interesting places. I can tell you a story or three that didn’t get into the books . . . which is probably good, since I’d be in ‘em, and that wouldn’t do at all. I mean, Theseus, Orpheus, Daedelus . . . and The Doctor. Just doesn’t _fit_ , does it . . ? “  
  
He looks at her sidelong, trying to tell if she’s pleased -- he hopes she is, she can tell, he _thinks_ she is . . . but he doesn’t _know_. Not at an automatic gut level. But, he’s still reaching across that divide, from the fourth dimension to the third, trying to make contact. He might not understand her, might not have the feelings she wishes he did, and he might deeply freak her out at times, but he cares all the same.  
  
She does what she can to meet him halfway, by laughing at his claims, teasing him, giving him chance to respond. “You never! Next thing you know, you’ll be saying you met the Minotaur.”  
  
“Oh, but I did! Nothing like what the stories describe, but just fascinating nonetheless . . .”  
  
They fall through space and time, plummeting like a shooting star, irreconcilably different . . . but together.  


* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=13146>


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